In 1985, I was deep in the closet, out of necessity, in my Wall Street job, and also hiding as best I could from the AIDS virus that was dominating news coverage and our urban gay lives in Manhattan. Whatever vacation time I could negotiate I used to escape as far away as possible (figuratively and literally) from both those suffocating phenomena. Like many gay men, I tended to take an holiday annually at Labor Day and immediately afterwards because airfares and lodging prices tended to drop then AND families with kids were scarce since a new school year had just commenced. Two European beach destinations that offered a relatively child-free libertine holiday environment and a nucleus of other gay tourists at that time of year were Ibiza (Spain) and Mykonos (Greece). In Sept. 1985, I opted to combine them in back-to-back weeks of vacation and even traveled to Ibiza first alone, while knowing no one there (I did have friends meeting me in Mykonos). Traveling by oneself can be daunting, but, it forces you out of your shell and, if you reach out to others, offers the opportunity for new friendships you might never have made traveling with others. This was my first time traveling solo and it taught me that valuable lesson, as well as initiated friendships that lasted decades. In this shot, in the warm Mediterranean waters off Ibiza’s gay beach, Es Cavallet, for some reason, I’m exposing my butt cheeks, while floating next to Michel De Peuter, one of the friends I met that week (early Sept. 1985). The amusing thing about Michel to me at the time was his profession: he was a Belgian dentist. On Wall Street, whenever we planned a new security offering we intended to try to market to investors globally, it was standard practice to ask the question “What will the typical Belgian dentist think of this security? Will he / she buy it?” Well, Michel was the first actual Belgian dentist I’d ever had the pleasure to meet, so, naturally, I explained to him his importance in the world of high finance.” #35mm

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In February 1991, I went on my first RSVP gay cruise in the Caribbean (from Miami to San Juan, Puerto Rico). I arrived in Miami a couple of days early to decompress with friends before embarking on the voyage. I’d been concerned that I might feel confined, even claustrophobic, cooped up on a ship for a week, even one large enough to accommodate 800 passengers. Not only did that not happen, but the most enjoyable part of the trip was the long stretches between our scheduled Island stopovers. I almost resented the day long excursions off the boat when we pulled into new ports. And I cherished the daily routine at sea which included breakfast, a gym workout, laying in the sun by the pool on the upper deck, organized “pool games”, open air dancing on the deck at sundown, dinner, a show with entertainers provided by RSVP, and disco dancing (on the deck or in the bowels of the ship) until the wee hours. I recall laughing uproariously as we were tossed from side to side by the aggressive motion of the boat as we danced at 4 a.m. in the disco below. And, while I didn’t experience it, the front of the boat topside was reputedly packed in the dark of night with those needing the “fleeting embrace of other men”. It was funny how quickly i found a group of handsome, fit, funny and smart men to hang out with. For some reason, Caribbean cruises draw a huge number of Californians, so most of my new friends came from LA or SF. Here, I’m posing with David Brunetti, Brian Friedman, Ray Handley, & others on deck between pina coladas during peak tanning time (February 1991). #35mm

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Among the favorite parties I attended were two pool bashes in the summers of 1991 & 1992 at David Pollard & @donhaddenindc’s home in the suburbs of Atlanta during HotLanta weekend. I’ve featured photos taken at both parties before. But, this is probably my fave from my first year there. While thousands ostensibly gathered in Atlanta to participate in a boozy raft race down the nearby Chattahoochee River on Sunday morning of that weekend (complete with muscled men drinking beer, calling out to each other, and deliberately rowing their rafts into their neighbors’, like a game of “bumper cars” on steroids), many were too busy partying every night to wake up in time for such shenanigans. The best they could manage was to rouse themselves and get to this pool party mid-afternoon, IF they were lucky enough to wangle an invitation. I like this photo (August 1991) because it accurately conveys the density of the crowd, the buzz in the air the whole afternoon, and the muscle abundantly on display. Many millennial followers have expressed surprise that “circuit parties” were in vogue 25+ years ago. They were a novelty then, so there was a freshness to them that’s lacking in today’s mega-parties, at least from my (perhaps, jaded:) perspective. #35mm

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Have the number of nude beaches in existence actually shrunk over the last few decades, even as societal attitudes towards sex and homosexuality have become less Victorian, or is it my imagination? I welcome input from viewers with their own examples of nude beach closings (or openings:). In September 1993, I took back-to-back vacation weeks in Cyprus (visiting a close friend whose dad had just been elected President of that country, staying in the presidential palace, and even having a party thrown by them for me on the palace lawn) and Mykonos, my third visit to that Aegean island paradise in 10 years (also, my last, as I’ve not returned in 24 years). The beaches weren’t as developed as they’ve apparently become today. And nudity was generally permitted & practiced widely on every beach, except (I think) Paradise Beach, which was known as a family sanctuary. Today, that’s no longer the case on Mykonos, now an overdeveloped commercial beach destination like so many. This photo was taken on Super Paradise Beach during that idyllic week. It wasn’t easy snapping a wide angle shot on a nude beach and managing to entirely miss any obvious genitalia (a condition of being able to post a photo on Instagram without it being reported and deleted), but I somehow succeeded. You can get a sense of the abundant nudity, pristine (but crowded) beach, and relaxed mien of the beach goers. If only it were possible to be transported back to that paradisiacal time and place! #35mm

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This photo was taken within weeks of the announced discovery of AIDS (August 1981). [I’m sorry if I’ve dwelt heavily on this topic in the last few pics, but it’s hard to separate the disease from stories related to photos I took in the 1980’s.]. I was visiting Jeff X in Chicago and several of us took a day trip to the Indiana Dunes National Seashore along Lake Michigan. I photographed Jeff and boyfriends, Rick Lomanto & Brian Riley, as they deflated our raft after we’d spent all day in it on the lake. Rick & Brian didn’t survive the epidemic. And, in a manner of speaking, neither did Jeff: if he’s to be believed, he’s not had sex with anyone in the 35 years that have elapsed, because fear took over. He recognizes this is no longer rational, but has become permanently locked into that reality. #35mm

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In the 1980's & 1990's, HotLanta, an August weekend of sybaritic release in steamy Atlanta, culminated in a drunken raft race among gay men down the nearby Chattahoochee River on Sunday morning. From Thursday through Sunday, disco dance parties took place nightly at various clubs in town. And, on Saturday afternoon in the late 80's & early 90's , @donhaddenindc & David Pollard hosted a suburban backyard pool party that was so packed with muscle boys in the early years that they feared complaints from neighbors and police intervention (early August 1991). Their parties provided great memories from a difficult era and sparked long term friendships. Meanwhile, Instagram reconnected me with Don (We met again in DC this March) and led to several new friendships in Atlanta this year. [Please tag anyone you know in this photo.]. #35mm

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I took this photo of Ray Slack (red cap) and others in the only quasi-open space at a packed annual pool party thrown by @donhaddenindc & David Pollard in their suburban Atlanta backyard during HotLanta weekend (late August 1991). Ray & I traveled in different circles, so, while I regularly ran into him (wearing his ubiquitous gray sweat shorts and red baseball cap) in South Beach (his hometown), Atlanta, NYC (Gay Games IV In 1994), and other destinations in the early 1990’s, I don’t recall that we ever spoke. The party was popular in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s. It featured a couple of hundred fit and sexy muscular gay men in their prime, showing off, flirting, exhibiting PDAs, and filling the hours between nightly blowout HotLanta dance parties. #35mm

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I’ve vacationed in Brasil 6 times - once at Carnival (1983) and 5 times at year-end for New Year’s (1988, 1989, 1992, 1995, & 2004). In December 1992, I was part of a group tour there organized by a travel agent friend, Ron Oyer, with a dozen gay men from California & NYC. One of us, Paul Matta, was a gay porn star, aka Ted Matthews. Here, he’s flexing for the crowd while standing on a protective barrier at Corcovado, “Christ the Redeemer” statue, overlooking Rio’s Guanabara Bay, as Rick Wilson looks on (Rick would tragically pass away from AIDS within a couple of years.). I’ve been told that, in addition to being a talented “performer”, Paul was an astute businessman, amassing a tidy fortune during his fairly short lived career. #35mm

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